Cogito Ergo Sum
by Dagmar1927
Summary: What would happen if Queen Victoria went to Hogwarts in the 1970s? Random I know, but have a butcher's anyway.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there. I'm Dagmar1927 and here is my (rather long) first story involving characters from from history and 'Arry Potterness. Please review with cabbages and have a very lovely day. :) Oh yes, I'd probably better mention that Queenie is Princess Victoria of Kent (soon to become Queen Victoria.) Not that it's a vital part of the plot or anything, but I thought you'd better know...**

**2****nd**** September 1977**

The teenage girl leant against the wall behind Kings Cross station in London. Two heavy trunks and a cage containing an eagle owl rested beside her. She looked at her watch and tutted at the time; quarter to ten, just as three figures hurried up, dragging a smaller one behind.

"Hello Minnie!" cried the fastest girl, her short blonde bob swishing over her face, "We got her alright!"

"Yes, but you couldn't've done it at a worse time Queenie," said a short girl with curly mouse-brown hair. She was carrying a cactus under her arm and had compost under her fingernails. The small figure rolled her eyes. "Alright _ladies_," she sighed, "I'll try to master the time-turner so I don't appear suddenly in front of some random muggle in this dress alright?" said Queenie, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at them. "Now where're my other clothes..." she rootled around in her trunk, which was significantly grander than the others', and pulled out a red jumper, a grey pleated skirt and a pair of black high-heeled shoes. "Oh _do _hurry up Queenie, we don't want to miss the train again do we?" piped up the girl sitting on her suitcase, holding a first aid kit in one hand and a small beige owl in the other.

"Sorry Poppy, but this dress has so many buttons and Lezhen would _kill_ me if I broke it," Minnie grinned at her fellow classmates and looked at her watch again. "Five minutes girls!" she said, with malevolent glee. Queenie eventually undid the final button and pulled the elaborate satin gown over her head, which caused her friends to give screams of laughter. "Oh do shut up," she snapped, pulling the jersey on and hastily doing up her skirt, 'you know full well that corsets are normal where I come from."

"Sorry Queenie, you know we're only joking, but we have two minutes to get from here to the platform before eleven o'clock, so we'd better run," said Pomona (the girl with the cactus), as Queenie jammed her feet into her shoes. Seizing hold of luggage, all five of them tore round the building to the station entrance and sprinted as fast as they could towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. With barely half a second to spare, they vanished though the supposedly solid wall and burst onto platform nine and three quarters, just as the scarlet train began to chug away. Pushing past waving relatives, the girls dashed towards a door, which a red-haired girl was holding open for them. Poppy jumped in first, followed by Pomona, then Yolanda, the Queenie and finally Minnie and they all landed in a heap on the floor. The red haired girl began to laugh as they untangled themselves and stood up. "We saved you a compartment, but Arthur really didn't think you'd make it,"

"Oh him of little faith, thanks Molly," said Yolanda, picking up her case and following her friends down the train. They opened the door to find a red-haired boy and a black cat with jolly brown eyes playing chess on a seat. "Hello boys," said Minnie, throwing her cases into the luggage rack, and helping the others do the same, as she was by far the tallest. Queenie was the last in and shut the door, just as Arthur and the cat began bowing and salaaming. "Oh we are not worthy, o' mistress!" cried Arthur, sarcastically from her feet. "Oh stop it, both of you, and especially Tiddles!" the cat gave a perturbed yowl and suddenly transformed into a tall dark-haired teenage boy. "Tiddles indeed! Well, we make a fine lot don't we? One quiddich nut who looks like a hawk-"

"Oh ha ha," said Yolanda, picking up a magazine.

"A plant-obsessed midget with a hair-care problem, Poppy, who's positive that everything is injured, a deranged Scottish occasional cat-woman, a muggle-obsessed idiot, a mysteriously dark and handsome young man who has the wondrous power to turn into a feline and a minute Princess with a glare to melt lead and a Persian problem."

"And me?"

"Oh you're alright Molls! Just this lot-OW! I though you were meant to be dignified Queenie!"

"Only when I'm at home; this isn't 1836 anymore in case you hadn't noticed."

"Ooh-ooh-ooh! Hark at 'er! Anyone'd think she was the Queen!"

"For the hundredth time I am _not _the Queen, well, not yet anyway...i really hope my uncle survives until I've finished my NEWTs, otherwise I'm going to be a bit stuck aren't I?"

"Yes, probably, but even so, you'll have a crown and servants and palaces and nice dresses and go to parties and balls and dance with the most lovely men in the kingdom and-"

"And be up to my elbows in paperwork because my relatives were too busy having a good time to worry about such a trivial matter of running the country. Sometimes I wish I could swap places with you Poppy. Life would be so easy..."

"Oh god, cut it out will you Queenie, we all know you're a princess in denial, but you're also our chum and a witch, so stop moping around and watch Arthur turn Yolanda purple or something!" said Tiberius, with a yawn.

"Sorry everyone. I won't mention it again."

They arranged themselves around the carriage and began to relax for the journey ahead. Minnie and Tiberius were playing chess, urged on by Arthur, Molly was knitting what looked like a tea cosy from green wool using her and Arthur's wands, Yolanda and Pomona were reading (Bludgers I Have Known by B. Snofflebank, and Oh Look a Fig, by Eric von Nutcase), Poppy was trying to turn her owl (Florrie, after Florence Nightingale) into a goblet without much luck, and Queenie was eating a cheese sandwich and staring out of the window. A young witch pushing a trolley slid open the door. "Anything off the trolley dears?" she asked.

"Ooh yes please!" cried Queenie, abandoning her sandwich, "Shall I get everyone something, as I'm the only one who's changed my money for the fourth year in a row!"

"Oh thanks Queenie, pumpkin pasties all round please and a good helping of chocolate frogs," said Tiberius, as his knight was battered to oblivion by a pawn.

"Can I have some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans please? And some liquorice wands, ooh and a fizzing whizzbee for Molly and a packet of sugar quills and a never-ending gobstopper for Tibs and a-"

"Alright Poppy, I tell you what, I'll have eight pumpkin pasties, eight lots of beans, thirty chocolate frogs and one each of everything else. Thank you!"

"Blimey!" said Arthur, eying the pile of food covering the whole table.

"Yes...maybe you over-did it a bit Queenie..." said Tiberius, as his King was flattened by a Jiving Muffin as it merrily bopped along the board.

"Nonsense! I don't know about you but I'm starving!"

"Really Queenie, you're going to be unbelievably fat when you're older-you've got an appetite like a horse!"

"Well thank you _Tiddles_," she snapped, taking a bite of pasty. He stuck his tongue out at her and picked up a bag of humming sherbet, that was emitting bars of Greensleeves.

"Oh grow up you two-OW!" exclaimed Minnie, as a well-aimed licorice wand smote her forehead, "Oh, sorry Queenie, p'raps not the best choice of words!" she smiled at her friend, who was only four foot eight even though she was seventeen, like the rest of them. A small group of tiny first-years hovered outside. "There she is!" squeaked one of them; a little boy with messy black hair.

"Oh no, every year it's the same, GO AWAY!" shouted Queenie, wrenching open the door and glaring at them. She slightly lessened the effect by being only about two inches taller than one of them, but they skedaddled nonetheless. "I'M A PRINCESS ALRIGHT? NOW GET OVER IT!" she bellowed down the train, causing a couple of second-years to gasp and hurry into the nearest compartment.

"Temper, temper!" chided Tiberius, with a smug grin, which was wiped off his face a moment later when he suddenly grew antlers. Everyone roared with laughter, before Poppy normalified his head again. The door slid open again and a tall blond boy, already in his robes, said: "Tiberius, Minnie, you've got to go to the prefects' carriage now, but you'll have to change first."

"Alright Rupert MacMillan, keep your hair on," grumbled Minnie, throwing her robes on over a red kilt and white blouse. Pomona, already in hers, followed Rupert, Tiberius and Minnie to find the Ravenclaw and Slytherin prefects (Horace Scamander and Zelda Lovegood in Ravenclaw, and Hortense Macnair and Zac Ganymede in Slytherin.)

"How on Earth did Tib become a prefect?" said Yonalda in an incredulous voice.

"Bribery I should think," replied Queenie, unwrapping a levitating bon-bon. Arthur snorted with laughter, as it flew up suddenly and hit her on the nose. Poppy opened her first aid kit hopefully, but shut it again when the sweet was retrieved and eaten.

"I can't wait for Quiddich to start again-now that I'm captain I get to pick the whole team," said Yolanda, putting her robes on over a Chudley cannons polo shirt.

"Well count me firmly out," said Molly, putting on her tie.

"And me, I prefer riding horses to brooms anyway, and I'm not very good."

"To be fair Queenie, you'd be better if you didn't try to fly sidesaddle all the time - a broom is not a horse after all," said Arthur, nibbling a chocolate frog.

"We're nearly there. Arthur, you take all the food you want and I'll put the rest in my bag, so we can have a midnight feast," said Queenie, licking a blood flavoured lollipop (being an animagus had its disadvantages if you turned into a carnivore.)

The train stopped in a cloud of steam, and the prefects hurried back to collect their luggage. Everyone piled out and made their way through the throng to one of the horseless coaches that would take them to the school.

**Thanks for reading and PLEASE review. **_**Oro**_**. That's latin for 'I beg'. Do you want more or have your retinas been insulted enough already?**


	2. Chapter 2

"First years over here," came the voice of the gamekeeper, whom they all shared a mutual hatred of, as they'd turned his voice permanently Swedish over the Christmas holidays and he'd got them into detention on the last day of term.

"Shame old Ogg's accent's back to normal," said Minnie, watching the hunched figure lead the mini-mes to the lake.

"Yeah, but we can always make it German this term – give him some lederhosen or something...actually, cancel the leather shorts-"

"EW Tibs, you've given me images I don't want to see!" cried Yolanda, hitting him with her broom.

"Anyway, Germans aren't like that," began Queenie, a little huffily.

"Oh I am sorry my little Hanoverian stollen cake!" said Tiberius, hugging her with mock sincerity.

"Get off you fool!" she cried, beginning to laugh.

The coaches stopped outside the castle and they headed towards the Great Hall for the feast. Pomona said bye and went to join the Hufflepuff table, while the others slid onto seats around the red and gold spangled one. "Bring in the midgets," murmured Tib to Queenie, as the first years, lead by Professor Tenneyson, scurried nervously towards the stool she set down and rather unceremoniously plonked the sorting hat on (the hat and the teacher had never got on, especially after the incident with the niffler and the confetti.)

"Abbot, Nathanial," said Tenneyson, and a blond boy with terrified eyes sat on the stool and had the hat jammed over his eyes. "OI!" it exclaimed, "I haven't done the singy-thing yet!"

"Bah! Foiled again!" growled the professor, but took the hat off Nathanial and bunged it on the table, where it began to sing. "Er...mi, mi, mi, mi, miiii! Right!

_I am the sorting hat,_

_I come from Hog-warts-warts,_

_And i-I sort peeps!_

_And i- I sort peeps!_

_Oh, the brainios go to Ravenclaw, _

_Ravenclaw,_

_Ravenclaw,_

_The smart ones got to Ravenclaw, raven, ravenclaw!_

_The eviloheads go in Slytherin, _

_Slytherin,_

_Slytherin,_

_The thoroughly nasty go to Slytherin,_

_Slither, Slytherin!_

_The sort of ones in the middle go to Hufflepuff, _

_Hufflepuff,_

_Hufflepuff,_

_The nice but dim go in Hufflepuff,_

_Huffle-hufflepuff!_

_The brave and bold go in Gryffindor,_

_Gryffindor,_

_Gryffindor,_

_Most of the main characters are in Gryffindor,_

_Gryffin-Gryffindor,_

_Oi!"_

There was the usual stirling round of applause, even though it was a frankly awful song; a _hat_ had made it up after all. "NOW you can sort Professor!" said the hat smugly. Nathanial was proclaimed a Hufflepuff and rushed to sit down.

"Cheese, Esmeralda," there were many snorts of laughter at this name, and the poor bright red little girl said in a trembling voice, "It's Chaise actually," at which the laughter increased. She was sorted into Gryffindor and was given the nickname Brie, which stuck for the rest of her life.

"Zibbeddi, Boris," was finally made a Ravenclaw and Headmaster Dippet stood up. "And now, I think, is the time to eat, enjoy senors and senoritas!" he looked slightly confused at his sudden Spanish accent, but his attention was caught by Queenie's hysterical laughter and Tiberius trying to shut her up and he just rolled his eyes and the food appeared.

"Mm roast potatoes!" said Queenie, who now had more food on her plate than Roger Donagon, who was six foot three and was a professional hippogriff wrestler out of school.

"Got anyone in mind for the Quiddich team Yolanda?" asked Barry Hooch, passing her the carrots.

"Well tryouts are this afternoon, but Roger and you will probably be beaters again and I think Zoë Gidbridget would be the best for keeper, but I'll see."

"Anyone want the beans?" asked Poppy, holding the bowl aloft.

"No thanks Pops. Ah, the start of term! Any plans for high jinks and tomfoolery today?" asked Arthur, piling peas onto his fork.

"Nothing really, but we could hang some of Queenie's outsized knickers off the Quiddich hoops again-"

"I DO NOT WEAR BIG KNICKERS!" she bellowed so loudly, that most of the hall turned to look.

"Of course not love, but if we're ever on a boat and the sail falls off-"

"SHUT UP!" she shouted and pushed him hard off the bench, but he dragged her with him and the landed together at the feet of a highly amused Professor Dumbledore.

"Er...sorry professor, er...just taking the air with my little lady friend here!"

"I am NOT your lady friend Tiddles! Now get off my leg before I curse you from her to Aberdeen!" they stood up and brushed off their clothes. "Sorry Professor Dumbledore," said Queenie, sitting back down.

"Don't worry Miss von Wettin, I was just wondering if you had any more cabbage."

"Help yourself sir," said Molly, passing him the dish. He thanked her and wandered back to the staff table.

"Hmph! Remind me never to speak to you ever again Tiddles."

"Remind me to never do this again," he stood up very suddenly and yelled "PANTALOOOONS!" at the top of his voice. Everyone was laughing, though some of the first-years looked a little unnerved. "Don't worry, this is o so normal," said Poppy, smiling at them. One of them (Amelia Blake) grinned at Queenie, who showed her teeth in what was supposedly a smile. "Why me? Why do they always seem to like me?" she hissed to Tiberius, who chuckled.

"Probably because you look like one of them!"

"But I hate small children! I'm never going to have any when I'm older."

"Even though you must to keep the monarchy going?" said Arthur, as the puddings rose out of the table.

"Oh yes...I'd forgotten...well I'd only have one in that case."

"If you ever find someone to marry," said Tib, flinching as she whacked him on the arm with her spoon.

"Oh something happened over the holidays – I met my future husband," she said in a flat voice, helping herself to a generous wodge of banoffee pie.

"WHAT?!" exclaimed all in the close vicinity.

"Yes, oh you know – Albert, my cousin? Anyway, he and Ernest came over for my birthday, but the crossing was awful, so they were both quite ill."

"Well what's he like?" asked Yolanda, stabbing a slice of apple with her fork.

"Hm...He's all right, very polite and quite nice, but his English isn't very good and he's not that good-looking. I suppose we'll get on, but he's nothing like me at all. He's very clever and doesn't like dancing very much I don't think-"

"In that case I think we'll be friends!" said Arthur, remembering the Yule Ball where he'd fractured Queenie's collarbone by trying to swing her round his head.

"It's a shame you're not that fond of each other," said Poppy, "But if it's got to be him, you may as well make the most of it. After all, you're sure of getting a husband, none of us are."

"Especially me," said Tiberius with a serious expression. Queenie laughed and flicked a grape at him.

"Ah well, there's no need to worry, we won't be married for years yet – I'll make sure of that!"

"Ooh! Timetables!" cried Molly, as Professor Woodbeam brought them round.

"Double potions, double transfiguration, double divination...kill me now!" groaned Tib, pretending to sob on Queenie's shoulder.

"I've got double charms, double transfiguration, double care of magical creatures," said Queenie, reading hers out.

"Oh I've got the same!" cried Poppy.

"We're all in the same transfiguration class," pointed out Minnie. They all grinned. As Minnie, Tib and Queenie were all animagi, they found the subject more fun than the others, though only the girls really loved it. The plates melted away and the headmaster stood up again and did his usual speech about rules and welcome and stuff. Tib actually went to sleep on Queenie's shoulder, much to her silent amusement. "And for the benefit of the new ones, teachers included, I have to point out that we have a very important pupil in our midst, Miss Alexandrina von Wettin,"

"Oh no..." muttered Queenie, elbowing Tib in the ribs to wake him up, which he did rather blearily.

"Now this young lady, as well as being a witch, is also a member of the royal family, though not from this time, if you follow my drift. With the aid of a time-turner, she comes here every year and will continue to do so until she ascends the throne. Now she doesn't want to draw attention to the fact that she will one day be Queen, but just so you recognise her, so you can't accidentally mention it to her, would you stand up please miss von Wettin?" she sighed and did so. The first years all stared at her wide-eyed, but the older pupils all grinned at her 'I'm going to murder you now Dippet' look, as they were used to it. "Yes I am a princess, no I won't knight anybody and just call me Queenie, or I'll have your head cut off, thank you," she said and sat back down. Most of the hall laughed, but some of the young ones looked a bit scared. Now her bit was over, she could concentrate on looking interested in what the teacher had to say, while really gazing dreamily out of the window.


	3. Chapter 3

The scraping of benches brought her to her senses and she got up with everyone else to leave. "First years over her! Gryffindor first years to me please!" came Minnie's authoratative tones. Tib dawdled over, hands in pockets, with Queenie in tow, to help.

"Really titchy people, come this way, that includes you _Alexandrina_!"

"Prepare to die Tiddles!" she exclaimed and gave him a cuff round the ear and then made him sprout antlers again. "I wish you'd stop doing that!" he cried, trying to remember the counter-jinx. Queenie just laughed and left him trying to usher ten and eleven year olds out of the hall with his new horns. She walked slowly upstairs, as they had an hour before lessons and she could unpack in two minutes, thanks to a new spell her and Minnie had made up two years previously.

"H'lo there Queenie! Had a nice summer?" she turned around to face a very tall boy with a shock of curly hair and a big grin. "Hello Hagrid! What're you doing here? I thought you were in Wales."

"Was, but Dippet let me be gamekeeper's 'ssistant! So I can stay a'school."

"That's brilliant! I didn't see you at the feast though,"

"No, I were 'elpin' Ogg wi'the Thestrals,"

"Oh you must be hungry, here, I saved these from the train," she handed him three chocolate frogs, four liquorice wands, twelve levitating bon-bons, two pumpkin pasties and a waltzing pancake from seemingly invisible pockets.

"Cheers Queenie, jus' why was y'hoardin' all tha' lot?"

"Oh you know me Hagrid, a midnight feast, or just a snack while I do my homework. Anyway, I've got to unpack, but I'll see you later!"

"Bye Queenie!" he walked on and she began climbing the stairs, a little out of breath, and secretly glad she'd given her snacks to Hagrid, as she didn't really need any more. She'd just reached the top of the eighth flight, when a snide voice cut through the air. "Well, well, well, if it isn't our chubby little friend Princessey!"

"Oh go away Malfoy, I'm not in the mood," she glared at the blond haired boy, with his evil smug grin and his cronies, Fenrir Greyback, who everyone knew was a werewolf, and the unbelievably thick Crabbe and Goyle (or Bonehead and Foyle as Tib called them.) Thick they may be, but they had at least a foot of height and about ten stone of weight over her. "Oh, Princessey's not in the mood is she? Oh dear, maybe a little curse might change her mind? _Cruc_-"

"_Levicorpus_!' she cried, and Lucius Malfoy flew into the air, suspended by his ankle.

"_Cru-" _began Greyback, but she was too fast for him with a stunning spell, which sent him flying down two fights of stairs.

"_Lev-" _Goyle started, but joined Malfoy dangling over the stairwell. Crabbe followed suit a couple of seconds later. All three had a magnificent pair of antlers.

"You were saying gentlemen?" she said calmly.

"Get us down you cow!" shouted Malfoy, wriggling as much as he dared.

"With pleasure!" she grinned and swept into a curtsey, as all of them plummeted down on top of Greyback, who had just regained consciousness, and knocked them all out cold. Giggling to herself, she carried on until she got the portrait of the fat lady. "Password?" the painting asked.

"Er..."

"Cogito ergo sum," said Minnie, appearing behind her, trailing small people.

"I think therefore I am? I like that!" said Queenie, as the portrait hole swung open and they clambered inside.

"You don't by any chance have anything to do with the four unconscious Slytherins with antlers sprawled outside Dumbledore's classroom do you Queenie?" asked Tiberius, bringing up the rear.

"Of course not deary, they're all far too big to have been beaten by little me!"

"You are such a show-off you know,"

"I wonder who I get it from?"

"You two, stop having a cat fight and...Oops..." began Minnie, seconds before the pair gave each other ecstatic looks and prepared to change.

"NO!" she yelled, sending both of them flying backwards, over the common room and landing in chairs, "NO CATTING AROUND!" there was a pause while the trio pondered this phrase, and then outbursts of raucous laughter filled the air. "Come on small-fry, girls that ways, boys that way, have fun my childs. See you in transfiguration Queenie, see you in potions Min!"

"Bye Tiberius!"

"See you Tiddles!" he threw a cushion at Queenie, which she easily dodged, and the girls headed for their dormitory, which they shared with Poppy, Molly and Yolanda. 

Yolanda had somehow got hold of a muggle radio, which she was trying to bewitch so it would work, but was simply melting the plastic cover slightly. Poppy had nearly finished unpacking and Florrie the owl was flapping about the dormitory, hooting merrily. "Shouldn't she be in the owlery?" asked Queenie, jabbing her wand at her trunk, which immediately flew open and hurled her clothes into the chest of drawers and wardrobe next to her bed.

"Yes, but I need her now so I can write to mum and dad and tell them I'm here and I'm fine. Ooh, could you pass that parchment please Queenie? Thanks."

"I should really owl Mama, but she had a fit last time – apparently eagle owls and chandeliers don't mix, but I might try and find a smaller one now. Coming Yolanda?"

"Yeah alright, this thing's not going to work, I'll get Min to look at it tonight." She abandoned the radio and they left Poppy in the common room trying to stop Florrie attacking some second years with bandages, and headed to the owlery.

"Hello Yolanda, Queenie!" said a tiny young man, with a small moustache which was the only indication that he was eighteen.

"Hello Filius, had a good morning?"

"Yes thank you Queenie, and yourself?"

"Fine thank you, just off to find a small owl so I can write to Mother."

"Ah yes...I suppose a large one might cause a few problems where you live! Anyway, I must dash – I promised Professor Clatworthy I'd help him set up his next lesson, see you in charms!"

"Bye Phil!" called Yolanda, as he hurried off. They carried on until they reached the high tower and pushed open the door. "This place gives me the creeps," said Yolanda, as small animal bones crunched under their feet.

"They're only a few bones, they won't hurt you! Now...a small owl...hm..." there were barely any owls left, many students having the same idea as Poppy, so there was a choice between two eagle owls, a gigantic snowy owl or something that looked like a mop with a beak. "Ah," said Yolanda, looking up, "Distinct lack of owl."

"Yes...now Mama might let me buy my own, if I send her the largest that is..." she selected the largest eagle owl (called Norman if you must know) and, staggering slightly under the weight, carried him back to the portrait hole, ignoring the giggles of Yolanda, who held the second eagle owl (Barclay) with far more ease.

"Miss von Wettin, will you please explain why you have an owl in the corridors," Professor Dumbledore was staring at them with a slight twinkle in his eye.  
"Er...i was just about to send a letter, but I haven't read it yet and I wanted to make sure I actually got an owl in time, sir," Dumbledore chuckled.

"A good plan, yes, but your mother, I believe, complained about the size of the messenger last time you wrote?"

"Yes, she did, but I thought this would persuade her to let me get an owl of my own. Now that I've learnt to control myself in animagus form, I won't hurt it. When's the first Hogsmeade trip Professor?"

"In a week's time, young lady, and I advise you to consult your mother before you buy said owl."

"But she'll say no. I don't think she likes me being a witch."

"Well she was quite difficult to persuade to let you come here, I admit, but I think she's over the worst now. She was quite pleased when I sent her an owl saying how you were getting on."

"Really?! Well...thank you professor, and you didn't see these owls, all right? Thank you!" she scurried through the hole, Yolanda hot on her heels, as Dumbledore turned and walked away. 'A shame,' he thought to himself, ' that she'll never finish her NEWTs,' he sighed, as he realised her situation. She should be creeping around school corridors with her friends, giggling like any other teenage girl, but in just a few months she'd have more responsibility on her shoulders than pretty much everyone in the school. He made up his mind; he was going to Dippet about this.

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room, Poppy, Yolanda, Molly and Queenie were all writing letters, while Arthur and Arietty Wandeman were playing chess in the corner, and Tiberius was attempting to do yoga in front of the fire.

"OOOAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!" he yelled, crumpling into a tangled heap on the rug. The others ignored him completely, except a first year with bright red hair and a determined expression who prodded him and asked; "Are you alright?"

"Mgfh! Fine thank you young lady...and your name?"

"Lily, Lily Evans."

"Well Lilsabeth, you have a lot to learn in this school: number one, don't have five stripes on your tie, _ever_, two; make sure your robes actually fit, three; don't mention that Queenie's probably going to inherit the throne in the next few months, and four; NEVER interfere with exceptionally handsome seventh years attempting the 'cobra' on fur rugs by fires. Goddit?"

"Er...y...yes..."

"Yes _sir_,"

"Oh shut up Tiddles, giving yourself airs above your station, you don't have to call him sir Lily, call him Englebert Humperdink for all I care," said Queenie, standing up and addressing the scared looking girl.

"Fine, but she should at least bow when I come into the room-"

"Er...why?"

"Because I am the most magnificent specimen of humanity known to man of course,"

"Idiot child! Now hurry along Lily, you don't want to be late for your first lesson now do you?"

"N...n...n...oh," she fled as fast as possible out of the portrait hole, almost tripping up with haste.

"Well...another needs convincing that Queenie's not some mad tyrant and Tiddles is a buffoon," said Yolanda, tying her parchment to her owl's leg.

"I resent that!" cried Tiberius, standing up.

"I could turn out to be some mad tyrant, you never know," said Queenie with a smile.

"Oh no you won't-I'll make sure of that, when we're married of course-"

"MARRIED???!!!!!" screamed Queenie, leaping backwards, "Are you MAD?!"

"Oh...oh god...she doesn't love me...oh!" sobbed Tiberius, pretending to cry.

"Now Tiddles, stop being so silly, you know that I can never marry you, even if I wanted to...which I don't, so just pick up your bag and go to potions – old Sluggy'll want you nice and early,"

Tiberius suddenly lunged forwards and tipped her backwards in a tango hold (the whole common room was staring at this point) and, in a dramatic voice, cried: "Oh...oh Fiona!"

"Oh Charles!" answered Queenie, relaxing now; as she realised he was simply doing their favourite 'Round the Horne' sketch.

"Come on you fools, charms starts in two minutes," said Poppy, throwing Queenie's bag at her and pointing in the vague direction of out.

"Coming Pops, won't be a sec," she untangled herself from Tib and raced upstairs to find her Charms stuff and spare quill. Minnie and Arthur had already gone to Arithmacy (Professor Corbett tended to hex those who were late and Arthur had sat through many a lesson with bubbles streaming from his ears and occasionally covered in birdseed and creosote).

"Oh the elegance of royalty," said Tiberius, as Queenie leapt down the last few steps, stumbled slightly and seized her bag all in one move and straightened up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Zip it Tiddles," she growled and hurried with Poppy to charms. Tiberius, Molly and Yolanda dawdled all the way to potions, as Slughorn was always at least ten minutes late, singing Lipstick on Your Collar.


	4. Chapter 4

Queenie and Poppy arrived outside charms, just as Professor Clatworthy was opening the door. "Come in, come in," he said, ushering them inside irritably. Though he seemed ever-so-more-than-slightly evil, he was actually very nice and was far more relaxed with the seventh years who had taken his subject. Queenie went to sit next to Poppy, but the professor said: "Sorry everyone, but Headmaster's decided that alphabetical order's the way forward, so re-arrange yourselves." There was a hearty groan as the class shuffled around, trying to think whether I came before L in the alphabet. Poppy (whose surname was Thomas) sat next to Roberta Timmons and Queenie reluctantly pulled up a chair next to Clintus Zanzibar, who fancied her and she, unfortunately for him, despised.

"Well helloooo there," he beamed, tipping back on his chair and pretending to chew gum. Queenie simply snorted in a most unladylike way and ignored him. "So, what's a pretty girl doing in a lesson like this?"

"That chat up line is so old, I think my _mother_ had it used on her. She was born in 1786 if you must know." She said, turning her back on him. Professor Clatworthy stood up and cleared his throat. The class stopped talking and turned to look.

"Right, this year there'll be NEWTs, if you didn't know already, so listen up. Charms is going to be tough this year, but you'll be able to do it. Now, first of all, we will learn the face-changing charm, which can be used for vanity or as a means of disguise. It is simply a slow down and up and _pulcheris vultus_...voila!" his deeply-lined face and seemingly bullet-proof glasses seemed to melt away, to be replaced with a suntanned countenance, shining teeth and a full head of blond hair.

"That is seriously creepy," said Roberta in a loud voice. Everyone laughed, as the professor changed back to normal. "Now it's your turn, practice reflecting it off these mirrors, go!" Ten mirrors shot to their respective pupils and the class got to work.

"_pulcheris vultus_," said Queenie, with the slow up and down thingy. To her surprise, a sensation like someone sprinkling glitter over her nose occurred and her eyes turned dark green, her hair turned deep black and her slightly prominent teeth shrunk to perfect gnashers.

"Well done Miss von Wotsit!" cried the professor, striding over (he could never remember her name and had a hatred of all things German, except, strangely enough, actual German people, so simply called her von Wotsit as a running joke).

"Thank you sir," she said, as her features slowly returned to normal. Clintus, meanwhile, was having less luck and had accidently transfigured his nose into a Womble-shaped china money box.

"Sexy nose Clint!" giggled Queenie, and he looked like Christmas had come early until he looked in the mirror and dropped it.

"Hm...Wombles, eh?" said the professor, trying not to grin, "Well, have another go Mr Zanzibar,"

"OOH! I did it!" cried Sophie Langsbury, her curly blond hair now dark brown and in an elegant knot on the back of her head.

"Blimey! Look at Phil!" exclaimed Sid Grenfell, his hair half-ginger and half-green (this was not part of the spell, it was entirely normal). All the people in the room turned to look. "By jove! I think he's got it!" cried the professor, unknowingly beating Higgins to it, as Filius Flitwick's moustache turned into a huge black beard and he grew dreadlocks and a Bob Marley hat, as well as turning the rest of himself into the singer as well.

"Woooah!" breathed Maclean Maclean (some people's parents are pure evil), who had idolised Marley since he was seven.

"Good one Phil!" said Roberta, elongating her nose until she looked slightly like a vulture. There was a sudden knock at the door.

"Come in," said Clatworthy, turning around. A small first year boy with lank black hair, a slightly hooked nose and very pale skin walked in and said in a snide way: "The headmaster wants to see Miss von Wettin in his office immediately."

"You may go, but I'd like two feet on this spell and the effects it may have on one's personality by Thursday."

"Thank you sir," she piled her books back into her bag and shoved her wand into her pocket and followed the boy out of the door.

"Do you know what Dippet wants?" she asked, adjusting her earring.

"No," said the boy snappishly, frowning.

"What's your name?"

"Snape. Severus Snape."

"Er...I guess you know me,"

"Yes."

Queenie sighed and gave up, so they continued in silence until they reached the statues of two magical griffons.

"Fizzing whizzbees," she said confidently, and the statue moved aside to let her pass. They climbed the stairs and she knocked on the door.

"Enter," said Headmaster Dippet, so she did. The headmaster was not the only one in the room: her transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore was there, as was a tall man with a gaunt face and a monocle, whom she recognised as Armarnus Twain, the Minister for Magic, a young man with red hair and a scar across his face and, to her surprise, Viscount Lord Melbourne, who bowed when she entered the room. A small cough to her right caused her to turn and come face to face with her smiling uncle. As if it were the most normal thing in the world, she took the hand he held out to her and swept a deep and surprisingly elegant curtsey. "Good afternoon my dear," he said. The minister and the young man looked a bit confused, until Dumbledore muttered something to them and they nodded in understanding.

"Uncle King!" she exclaimed, "Please pardon my abruptness, but what brings you to my school?" the King laughed, wheezing slightly, and said in a kind voice: "You, my dear. I am here concerning events that will take place at er...Hogwarts in the next few months."

"I beg your pardon, your Majesty," said Dumbledore, shooing Snape from the room, who had looked animated for the first time. When the boy had left, Dippet stepped in and said, in an authorative tone: " This year, Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament and the schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, will also be attending. It is my job to make sure that a ...er...girl in your position does not get injured and so is fit and healthy to fulfil her destiny in whatever way fate has chosen. In your case, we," he indicated to all those present, "Have decided that you should not be allowed to enter the tournament for your own safety. Of course, we will need your mother's consent, and your own, naturally..." Queenie looked in amazement at the people staring intently at her. She knew that it would be stupid even to consider entering, yet the fact that these people had all decided it for her, in secret obviously, as her mother would never have allowed her to meet her uncle, made her furious.

"For my own good you say? And, if you excuse my rudeness, what has my well-being got to do with you?"

"As a pupil at this school-"

"Have you told any other students that they are not allowed to enter?"

"Er...not at the present time, but none of them are as important as you-"

"I am very sorry professor, but I consider myself to be only as important as every other person at Hogwarts and no further. If I consider myself to be an equal, why don't you?"

"As heir to the throne of England I presumed that you would not even think for a second about entering yourself in such a risky competition?"

"Well, sir, you presumed wrong. Had I been able to make my own decisions instead of being mollycoddled in this degrading manner, I would, of course, have decided against putting my name in the goblet, but, as you seem willing to treat me as a child, I shall therefore behave like one. I will make up my own mind concerning this business and do not expect any further hinderence concerning my choice, whatever that may be." She glared unflinchingly straight at Dippet, who looked more than a little flustered, and waited for someone else to speak.

"The girl's got a point," growled the young man, as all eyes turned on him, "It's her life after all isn't it?"

"And who might you be young man?" blustered Dippet, losing his self-control.

"Auror, Alastor Moody at your service," he gave a solomn bow and gave Queenie a crooked grin, which she returned despite her previous anger.

"I invited him along, not much experience in dealing with tempramental young witches," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling to show the witch in question that he was joking.

"I would prefer it if you did not refer to my niece as a, er...witch," said the King, looking uncomfortable.

"Oh don't worry about that uncle, you see, I _am_ a witch after all, surely you knew that?"

"Yes, yes, but...it does bring it to the fore rather...can you...well, do _magic_?" he looked very interested, as did Lord Melbourne, who had been silent all through the meeting.

"Yes I can. Um...would you like me to show you?"

"Ra-ther!" cried Moody in an uncharacteristically over-excited voice. Queenie laughed at his famous five-esqueness and took out her wand, looking around for inspiration.

"Er..._wingardium leviosa_!" she cried, with a swish and a flick she sent the pile of papers on the desk high into the air. She made the quill do a few cartwheels and transfigured the lamp into a small horse, which caused minor chaos until she rectified her mistake.

"And I do believe that you are one of several registered animagi in Britain, so if you would possibly show us that?"

"Could I do a patronus first?" she asked, secretly very pleased at the expressions of disbelief on the King and Melbourne's faces.

"Very well," said Dippet, also impressed.

"_Expecto patronum!"_ a giant silver lioness burst out of her wand and leapt onto the desk, roaring.

"Goodness me..." breathed Melbourne, wide-eyed in amazement.

"Though this young lady must get back to her lessons now, she has time to do one more piece of magic. In your own time miss." Queenie put her wand away and concerntrated, before taking a little run forwards and transforming into a dark brown long-haired cat with serious blue eyes. She jumped onto the desk and prowled around between the papers, then sat down and watched the reaction.

"Y...you can't surely be suggesting that...that cat is my niece?!" cried the king, absolutely staggered. As if in reply, Queenie in cat form nodded and returned to her normal self, perched on the edge of the desk.

"You may leave now, miss von Wettin, but hurry to your next class."

"Yes sir, goodbye minister, Lord Melborne, professor Dumbledore, Alastor and Uncle, I hope to see you soon," she gave another curtsey and strode out of the room to transfiguration.

"Well, _that_ went well," said Moody, secretly laughing at how the Minister for Magic and the head of the school had just had a dressing down from a small seventeen year old girl.

"Hm. Well, I don't pity you Lord M, as I daresay you'll be her first minister," said Twain, fiddling with his monocle.

"Yes, a Hanovarian through and through that one," mused the King, "Not that that's a bad thing, mind, but I hope against hope that she turns eighteen before I leave my post."

"Why's that?" asked Moody, fiddling with the frayed cuff of his robes.

"Otherwise that domineering mother of hers'll rule for her as regent and Victoria deserves freedom from that woman, you know, she told me that she's not allowed downstairs on her own at home without someone holding her hand? And that she still sleeps in her mother's bedroom? If the poor girl turns out to be a half-decent monarch, it'll be nothing short of a miracle."

"She still has spirit though sir," said Melbourne, deep in thought.

"At least her mother hasn't broken that...yet...but we have eight months until she comes of age, yet I don't think I'll make it that long," he sighed and the rest of the room looked slightly uncomfortable.

"If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a class to teach," said Dumbledore and the party broke up.

Meanwhile, Queenie had joined Minnie, Tiberius, Poppy, Yolanda, Arthur, Molly and Ponoma outside the transfiguration classroom, where they were waiting with Slytherins Tom Riddle and Zac Ganymede (who was actually alright if you didn't mention unicorns-he gave lectures) and Barry Hooch, who had a snitch he's stolen from the Quiddich pitch, and was letting it zoom around until either he or Yolanda caught it. The appearance of professor Dumbledore, however, caused him to shove it into the pocket on his bag and pretend to be having a conversation with Molly about Hogsmeade.

"Settle down class, now you can spread out along that wall while I begin the lesson." They exchanged looks of confusion, but did as they were told, realising that there were no desks and a large gramaphone at the front of the room.

"Now, you may be aware that Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year, and therefore also the Yule Ball in a few months. Unlike previous years, the selected schools will come at the very start of the year and spend the rest of the time in the lessons of the host school, in this case, Hogwarts, this means that the rest of your lessons will be shared with pupils from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons." He let the message sink in. "So that means that we'll be sharing with them for a whole year?!" cried Yolanda.

"Yes Miss Smith, it does," said Dumbledore, with a smile.

"I wish I had gone to Durmstrang," said Tom in a faraway voice.

"Don't they produce more dark wizards than any other school and specialise in teaching the Dark Arts, rather than defence against them?" asked Minnie, knowing full well she was right, but just putting across her point in that fashion because she could.

"Yes," said Tom, with a dreamy expression.

"Now this means," continued Dumbledore, "That this afternoon's lessons are cancelled to welcome the other students to our school, but in the meantime, we have work to do, so I think that you should revise what we did at the end of last year. Here are your cacti, please turn them into wombats."

Each pupil took a cactus, of varying shapes and sizes and set about transfiguring them. Minnie did it on her first try, earning ten points for Gryffindor, but the rest of the class was finding it harder. Queenie had managed to create a wombat, but it had a greenish tinge, which she was now trying to remove, while Tiberius' cactus had turned brown and furry and was emitting large purple sparks and strains of 'Morning' by Grieg. Yolanda's wombat was orbiting the room slowly, changing the colour of its nose all the time, Arthur's cactus fell off the table and shot up Zac's trouser leg, which caused him to scream like a girl and hop around the classroom, tugging at his jeans, while his green prickly wombat breathed fire at Molly, whose very small wombat in a pot was perfect, except in size. Pomona was trying to turn a rubber into a wombat, as she like cacti too much to risk destroying the one she had concealed in her bag, and Roger's cactus had given an ear-splitting squawk and promptly turned into a rhinoceros calf.

"Aaw!" said Poppy, as her wombat's ears turned into little red flowers. There was an almighty bang and everyone turned to stare at the smoking crater that had once been Tom's cactus.

As they filed out of the classroom, with homework to practice the spell over the weekend, Molly whispered to Pomona, "Riddle's creepy isn't he? I mean, exploding that cactus and everything, apparently he used the Crutiacus curse on a third year over the summer – he had a hearing and everything, but of course he got off with a caution,"

"Really?" asked Queenie, who had been slightly distant throughout the lesson, catching up.

"Yeah, imagine using an unforgivable curse on someone and then returning to school?" said Yolanda, wide-eyed.

"Imagine hurting a _plant_. That poor little cactus," sniffed Pom, pulling out a hanky with pictures of honking daffodils on it and blowing her nose loudly.

"When's dinner? I'm starving," said Arthur, nimbly dodging a suit of armour that had tried to trip him up.

"You're getting worse than Queenie," joked Tib, earning him an elbow in the ribs from all of them.

"Is anyone going to enter the tournament?" asked Pomona, now recovered and trying to stop a small Devil's Snare from strangling her new cactus.

"Deffo Pom," said Tib, running a hand through his hair.

"I think I will," said Minnie, picking up her wombat she'd somehow nicked from transfiguration.

"I'm going to," said Barry.

"Yeah, me too," said Rupert, "Hufflepuff never gets all the glory!"

"I'm not going to, I mean, it's really dangerous, people've died," whispered Poppy.

"Well that's the attraction isn't it?" said Tib, as they neared the Gryffindor common room.

"I s'pose so," she said, "cogito ergo sum," she added, as the fat lady's picture swung open.

"Hello all," said Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, floating lazily over their heads.

"Morning Nick," all of them said, except Queenie, who said: "Good afternoon Sir Nicolas," which cheered the ghost up no end.

"At least one of you has some manners, though I would have expected it."

"How is Grandfather George getting along then?"

"Oh fine, fine thank you, he send his best wishes and tells you to lay off the cream, sorry to have to say that, but he gets a bit tetchy and starts throwing sauerkraut at me if I don't repeat the messages exactly. He says he'll come and visit soon by the way."

"Oh good, I haven't spoken to him for a very long time! Thank you Nicolas, goodbye."

"Have a good day, all of you." He drifted off through the wall and left the small group in the common room.

"Well, as lessons are cancelled, how about we go on a picnic?" suggested Barry, just as the heavens opened and it began to pour with rain.

"Alternatively, we could just hang around here for a bit until three," said Tib, and went to find a book about hair care from his room.

Queenie and Minnie also went upstairs, to finish decorating their assaigned spaces. Queenie had put up lots of moving paintings of her family and one or two of Laurence Olivier, whom she had a soft spot for. Minnie's walls were covered in photos of her family, assorted cats and Quiddich teams, one in particular: the Aberdeen Aces, which she had supported for twelve years.

Then they lay on their beds, reading. Minnie read a dusty, navy-jacketed tome, entitled: 'Animagi through the ages and their unconscious influence upon politics and society' by Edgar Wittlington-Smythe.

Queenie, however, was looking through the 1836 fashion prints and drawing her ideal dress. "What do you think?" she asked, holding it up.

"It's a bit pink isn't it?" said Minnie, wrinkling her nose.

"Well it_ is_ my favourite colour, but just pretend it's in bottle green alright?"

"Hm...i suppose it would look good on you, but lace and I do not get on..." Queenie laughed, rolling onto her back.

"Good afternoon Victoria," said a deep kindly voice from the wall. She sat up immediately (only two people called her Victoria; one was her uncle and the other was:) "Papa!" she cried, as the previously empty frame in pride of place above her bed, was filled with a tall blond-haired man, in his early fifties, wearing a military uniform of days gone by. Minnie smiled at her friend and quietly walked out.

"How are you then my little princess?" he asked, smiling.

"I'm so glad to be back, I love it here, I'm so..._free_, it's wonderful! How have you been over the summer?"

"Oh fine, fine, just been staying with the monks on the second floor-a right old booze-up that was! And that barmy knight challenged me to a duel a couple of weeks ago, so we borrowed some swords from the battling Dukes, rather apt, eh? Which we used, and we fought on the beach in that picture with the boy in the hammock; he moved it pretty sharpish I can tell you!"

"Who won?" asked Queenie, rapt with attention.

"Well, neither of us in the end; the tide came in didn't it?!" Queenie laughed loudly, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Well it's good to see you so happy, and I'll see you this evening I suppose,"

"Yes you will. Goodbye Papa, come and visit me soon!"

"Goodbye Victoria, have a good day." She hopped off her bed, picked up her satchel, waved once more at her father's painting and hurried downstairs to join the others. The Duke of Kent smiled, thinking of the first time his daughter had seen his portrait. She was only eleven, and professor Dumbledore had given her a large package, wrapped in a blanket, which turned out to be an invisibility cloak, for her birthday, and the painting had been inside. He was delighted that she kept such regular contact and spoke to him almost every day. He loved seeing how the timid, blonde-haired skinny little girl had changed into the confident, pretty young lady she now was. He smiled again and then went to see if the monks were playing his favourite drinking game, the one involving the enchanted sideboard and the walrus, and left his portrait empty.


End file.
